Of Guilt and Regret
by Laser Lance 720
Summary: This was a dangerous game he had found himself involved in. A game he never wanted to play in the first place. Standing in that bathroom, Potter on the opposite side of his wand, Draco couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't play the game. Couldn't be the murderer they all were trying to shape him to be. He couldn't add another thing to his already overbearing guilt. 6th year AU.


Written for:

**Scavenger Hunt Challenge:** 28. An _angst_/tragic fic

**Same Ol' People, Same Ol' Music Challenge**: Framing Henley – Weight of the World / Draco Malfoy

**Variety of Prompts Challenge:** Relationship #6: Enemies (Harry and Draco) / Disney Quote #4: "I'm right here for you, just let me in. We only have each other, just you and me." –Frozen

**Secret Battle Competition:** Write about a character known to be 'inclined to the dark', using three of the prompts: _Blood_ / _Danger_ / _Scared_ / _Anger_ / _Darkness_ / _Curse_ / Crazy / _Insane_ / _Murder_

**Major Arcana (Tarot) Reading**: (Temperance, Upright) Write about someone who usually maintains calmness, but finds themselves unable to keep anger within during a particular event

**Disclaimer**: Any and all characters/locations belong to J.K. Rowling. That's how it's always been, it is how it always will be.

-oOo-  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
_Life is throwing you curves.  
You can make it.  
Take it in, try again, you don't deserve this…_  
-Framing Henley: Weight of the World_  
_-oOo-  
-oOo-  
-oOo-

He couldn't remember that last time he'd eaten a proper meal. It could have been the day before, or weeks prior, but Draco's stomach felt as if it were caving in on himself. He needed to eat, and he needed to do so soon. Any longer, and he was positive he'd give out from hunger. Food had been the only thing on his mind. Filling his stomach, and vacating the Hall quickly had been steps one and two.

When he entered the Great Hall, all thoughts of food were shut away. She was watching him, Katie Bell was. She stood just on the other side of Potter, the Gryffindor's back towards him. She must have been talking, because her mouth hung half open as if words had been pouring out only moments prior. While she faced Potter, her eyes were locked onto Draco. He knew she shouldn't remember what he had done, and from the blank stare she was giving, it was obvious that she had no clue he had accidently nearly caused her death. But there was something in her gaze that boar into him.

He could feel his throat constricting under her vacant stare. Guilt and remorse built inside of him along with pure terror. He didn't want to do it, hadn't meant for her to be hurt, but she had, and it was his fault. His fault that she had been in the hospital. His fault she had been so gravely injured. It was all his fault, and he knew it. It tore at him, made him furious beyond belief at the damage he could cause. He never wanted to be this. Never wanted to become this monster that that all were trying to drive him down the path of.

Draco's tie felt too tight in that moment, like a snake trying to strangle the air from his lungs. He fought with the material, trying and failing to remove it due to his shaky hands. The anger only continued to rise inside of him at yet another failure. Sweaty palms couldn't get a grip, and he felt like he was losing air quickly.

Katie continued to stare at him. It felt as if every pair of eyes on the Great Hall were locked onto him. The Slytherin glanced up at the teacher's table, catching the concerned look Snape was sending him. Just a few seats away from the Head of his house, Albus Dumbledore was chatting merely with McGonagall, seemingly aware that his attempted murderer was in the room with him. There was something in the Headmasters eyes though that traumatized Draco. There was a twinkle of knowledge there, as if he knew what Draco had been up to. As if the old man knew that the strange attacks on the students were meant to be murder upon him.

The thought sent waves of panic through the boy. If he were found out, if he were caught, his mother's life would indeed be forfeited due to his failures. This was a dangerous game he had been wrapped into, a game where defeat meant being at the mercy of an insane man, and his mother's blood on his hands. There was no room for being found out. In this game of darkness, there was no room for failure, and if the Headmaster was aware that he was a player, that failure was sure to come.

Removing his eyes from the Headmaster, and praying that he was merely overreacting, Draco found himself staring once more at the still concentrating Katie Bell. His tie grew tighter, and he fought to rip it apart so that he could breathe.

Potter turned slowly, emerald eyes locking onto Draco with such malice and rage. Draco had seen the Gryffindor angry before, he normally being the cause, but this was different. It wasn't the anger that came whenever his friends and family were insulted, but something much darker. Something much more primal. It was an animalistic glare, like that of a protective parents defending their offspring. It was primal, it was dark, and it scared the Hell out of Draco.

Still fighting to undo his tie and emotions running high, he spun then on his heels, putting his back towards the boy if only so he would have to see that knowing glare. He couldn't do this. Not here. Not now. Still struggling with his tie, Draco retreated from the Great Hall, shoving away any who crossed his path. Desperation and fear boiled in his blood as he exited into the hallway and pushed further away.

He had to get away. Get far, far away before he broke down.

The portraits knew, Draco was sure. They whispered to one another when he passed, fueling the fear and resentment inside him, and even though their conversations were not on him, he felt like they were. He felt like everyone was eying him, aware of the crimes he had committed. They all whispered of the monster he was becoming. The Death Eater. The son his father had always wanted him to become.

They all knew and they were toying with him now. He was done for. By the start of next morning, the Aurors would get him, and drop him into Azkaban right beside his father. His mother would be alone, but not for long before Voldemort disposed of her. He would come for Draco next, and when it came to that point, alone in Azkaban, the only person to ever love him dead and gone by his fault, Draco would welcome the curse that would relive him from the pain and bitterness that sunk into him.

But for now, he didn't want to die. This thought replayed through his mind as he shoved his way into the deserted bathroom. Myrtle's voice was in the air, her muttered complaining turning into worry towards him as Draco stumbled through the bathroom. He ignored her, dropping down to his knees in front of the set of sinks.

Heavy sobs racked his body. A feeling of light headedness attacked him as his burdened sobs latched into the air. Myrtle was beside him, pleading for him to allow her to help, but he pushed her voice from his mind. There was nothing she could do. Nothing any of them could do. And he screamed this at her in rage full breathlessness. Desperate for her to understand that there was nothing for any of them to do.

It took all his might to pull himself up from his knees. The image that looked back at him was heart breaking. His hair was as pale as death, and hung about his head in tangles. He couldn't remember the last time he had brushed it. His skin was equally washed out, as if blood had stopped flowing in that part of his body to give it color. Grey eyes, normally so intelligent and thoughtful, were hallow and empty. His mother always said that the eyes were the window into the soul, and it that was true, than Draco wasn't sure he wanted to see what his soul looked like at this point. If it were anything like his eyes, than he knew he was far too gone. Cheekbones were sharp, and shown through the sickly pale skin. He no longer looked the well-built Seeker he had been, but now a shell. A shell of a great boy, who had been reduced to nothing, looked back at him through the cracked mirror.

His tie constricted tighter. Feed up with the fight, he let out a vicious growl before tugging at the fabric violently. It ripped, finally coming from around his throat, but not before his nails scratched against his skin. The smallest pool of cherry red blood beaded at the base of his neck, reminding him that he was indeed alive. Tossing the green tie onto the ground, he turned the sink handles, amazed that he could hold them with how shaky his hands were. Water rushed out instantly, cold to his touch.

Splashing the chilly water against his face, he was sickened that it didn't wash away the image before him. The broken boy was still frowning back at him, shaking from the tears that just couldn't be quelled. The blood on his neck washed away momentarily, before beading up once more.

Behind him, the door creaked open. Draco shifted his vision to catch sight of who had entered. He half wanted it to be some poor girl who had only come to use the bathroom, if only so he could release his stress and anger onto her. On the other side, he kind of prayed that it would be the Headmaster himself, come to inform him that he was caught. Either way, he didn't want it to be the boy who had entered.

Draco fingered his wand, more out of precaution than any desire to fight the Gryffindor. Potter only continued to stand there, watching him with keen interest, the look of malice no longer in his eyes. Now, there was pity. Draco couldn't stand that. If there was anything worse than Potter looking at him in sheer hatred, it was him looking onto him with this pity. He didn't need it. Didn't need pity from the boy-who-lived. Draco wanted to tell him this. To scream at Potter to leave with all the anger in his soul, but he couldn't. His mouth refused to from words, only more shuddering gasps from breath and silent screams.

Potter took a step forward, and Draco spun. It wasn't an act of attack, but one of fear. He had learned well never to keep his back to an opponent. Of course, Potter took this as a declaration of war, and drew his wand as well. Neither boy wished to be the first to begin, and only stood watching one another. Potter was firm, standing with two feet planted and hand gripping his wand tightly. Draco was another story. Wand unsteady, and knees fighting to keep him upright, the Slytherin didn't think he could hit the other boy even if he tried. His vision was blurred from restlessness, and clouded with stinging tears.

The lamp beside Harry exploded. He dove to the side, thinking that the action had been an assault from Draco. In all truth, it hadn't been intended. With everything boiling inside him, the fear, the anger, the stress, the remorse, it was all too much for him to keep in check. He'd thought he'd grown out of accidental magic, but it seemed that when too much was piled onto one person, even the strongest control was broken. With this in mind, Draco could only stand there, staring at the shattered glass.

Potter was a few feet from where he had been, wand raised and pointed towards the young Death Eater. He made a move to strike back with a quick curse, but froze at the sight of his opponent. Draco was just standing there, focus not on the Gryffindor, but the broken lamps. His legs were shaking, knees close to giving out. Every inch of his body was vibrating, his wand hand being no exception.

"Malfoy?" Harry spoke slowly, afraid that if her were to snap the boy from his trance, a fight would ensure. Draco was paying no mind to him, only staring forward. After several seconds, he seemed to snap out of his daze. He spun around toward the voice, but looked right over him. Eyes connected with a mirror just to Harry's left.

Draco was frozen once more, biting at his lips as he looked at his own reflection. The look on his face made him shake even further. His eyes were once more lit from the excitement of battle. The tight nit in his brow was present. All of a sudden, the tired and shattered boy was replaced by one who scared him even more. The change was so subtle, but he could sense it. It was the look of a boy who could cause real damage, a boy who was walking a fine line over the darkness. It was the beginning on a boy that they all were shaping for murder.

"I'm sorry." Draco whispered, wand dropping from his hand. The wand clattered onto the floor, and rolled a short ways away into where the overhanging lights didn't reach. He still wasn't looking at Harry, but somewhere passed him. "I can't… I can't do this. I won't…"

Whatever Draco wouldn't do was never answered. He dropped to his knees, head bowed down. His arms wrapped tight around his chest, trying desperately to stop the set of tears that were coming once more. He couldn't though, and with a low howl, they began to flow like a deep river once more.

Harry was shocked by the quick change in Draco. In a matter of three minutes, he had watched Draco break down more so than he could have ever thought possible. The first set of tears he had seen were shock enough, but this set, it was alarming to watch. The Slytherin had always been so well together and in control. With all of his faults, Harry had always been impressed with his ability to keep calm no matter the situation. But now, it didn't even seem like the same boy. He was crouched low, curled into a tight ball that seemed far too small. The clothes he sported hung off him a good size too big. His hair was longer than it had ever been, reaching just to the end of his neck, and blocking the side of his face. His entire boy was shaking where he knelt. It was unlike anything Harry had ever seen. It wasn't natural.

"Malfoy?" Harry slowly got to his feet, keeping a firm grip on his wand as he lowered it. Draco must have forgotten the other presences in the room. Myrtle was just on the other side of him, placing a transparent hand onto the teens shoulder and trying to calm him. The ghost was shooting dirty glares at Harry as he walked closer.

"It's okay." Myrtle whispered to the crying boy. "Its gunna be okay."

"I'm sorry." Draco seemed to be repeating the phrase. "I can't… can't… can't. My fault… all my fault. I'm sorry."

"Malfoy?" Harry knelt just in front of Draco. The Slytherin didn't seem to notice him, only continued to ramble under his breath what seemed to be the most sincere apology he had ever spoken. Who it was for, Harry didn't know, but he had a feeling.

"Draco?" The boy in question's head snapped up at the sound of his name. He looked onto Harry with eyes like molten steel. There was so much pain in them, so much guilt and anger. His eyes looked so old at that moment, much older than that of a sixteen year old boy.

"Draco, listen to me." Harry wasn't sure when the scene in the bathroom had shifted so much. He had come in her to confront the blonde about his crimes against Katie, instead, he was trying to comfort him. Attempting to break through the shattered barriers that Draco just could no longer keep up.

"Its going to be okay." Harry repeated the words Myrtle had spoken. "I promise you, whatever is happening, it's going to be okay."

"No it won't." Draco whispered, his voice hauntingly broken. He paused for a second, breathing heavily as if he couldn't get oxygen to stay in his lungs. "My fault. I don't… want to… to be…"

Harry wasn't sure what to say. The sound of heavy footsteps entering into the bathroom broke both boys from their thoughts. They looked up in time to see Professor Snape skidding to a halt in the doorway.

At the sight before him, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher all but raced into the room. He slide beside Harry, taking his place just in front of Draco. The young Slytherin felt into the teacher's arms instantly, causing Myrtle to fall back a bit. Draco clung to Snape as if the man were the only thing keeping him from fading away into his pain.

"I'm sorry." Draco pleaded once more, face buried into Snape's robes. "I… I…"

"It's alright." Snape muttered, his voice like nothing Harry had ever heard. He was used to the professors monotone, or sometimes irritated tone, but this was different. There was so much compassion and care behind Snape's words that Harry what kind of relationship the two had.

"I'm sorry Uncle Sev." Draco's words were barely audible. His voice was calmed just slightly from prior, but still shook unsteadily.

"Its alright." Snape pulled Draco tighter into his chest, running a hand through the boy's tangled blonde locks. "I promise you Draco, it will be alright."

The soft touch of Harry's shoulder drew him away from the sight before him. Glancing up, he wasn't surprised to see Hermione and Ron kneeling beside him. From the looks in their eyes, they were highly confused by the scene in front of them, and would be wanting answers later. For now though, they only knelt there in the bathroom while their longest adversary cried deeply into Professor Snape's robes.

-oOo-  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
"_I'm right here for you, just let me in. We only have each other, just you and me_."  
-Frozen  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
-oOo-


End file.
